Against the Law
by comewithnattah
Summary: Michonne gets pulled over by her crush and shenanigans ensue
1. Chapter 1

Michonne sighed and dropped her head at the blue lights flashing behind her. She tried to form a believable excuse for running the red light, but there wasn't one. She was never good at lying. She was simply late for work and she knew that wouldn't get her off the hook.

She saw the cruiser's door swing open in her rear view mirror and her heart rate went into overdrive when she saw the man who wore the uniform. She smiled in spite of herself and adjusted in her seat nervously as he approached.

Michonne recognized him immediately. He was a regular around the courthouse. And she would never forget the first time she saw him.

The tall drink of blue-eyed water had entered the courtroom on a bow-legged gait behind the cuffed defendant he was transporting. Michonne was just about to begin a very serious line of questioning when her blonde co-chair tipped her head in the armed guard's direction.

"Check out Deputy Doggystyle." Andrea leaned into Michonne's shoulder and whispered. The normally reserved attorney met his eyes before she could stop herself. His pretty eyes and salt and pepper scruff around his obscenely kissable lips caught her off guard. "He looks like a hair puller." Andrea added and Michonne swallowed hard, telling herself not to stare, while she did just that.

He did look like a hair puller. But Michonne found herself thinking how much better it'd be to have him face to face so she could get lost in those eyes while he nailed her up against a wall. She licked her lips imagining his suffocating stare looking down on her as she unzipped his fly in one of the court's mediation rooms. She looked at his large hands, his thumbs hooked casually in his gun belt as he stood there stone-faced. She let her imagination run away with her as she conjured up a scenario of his hands squeezing and smacking her butt as she rode him in the judge's bench.

'Michonne!" She heard Andrea whisper urgently, snapping her out of her reverie. Judge Blake looked at her with an annoyed, expectant expression and Michonne realized she had missed him calling her to begin her cross examination of the witness on the stand. "Save some of that eye-fuck for later." her fellow attorney mumbled on a smirk and pushed her friend forward with only her saucer-sized eyes.

Michonne rolled her eyes through an irritated sigh, smoothed her skirt and went head to head with the opposing side's witness. She fumbled her way through the whole line of questioning and was pissed at Andrea for the rest of the day.

'Deputy Doggystyle' was the first, but nowhere near the last inappropriate thing Andrea said about the gorgeous lawman. Under the guise of discussing the case, she'd whisper to Michonne right in the middle of court, "Do you see the way his uniform is fitting over that chest? Damn! I feel attacked... My white ass never thought I'd be a victim of police brutality..." While Michonne shuffled papers, Andrea would joke, "I know he's one of the good guys, but that dick print should be against the law... But, it makes sense, though, I guess... What's it called again? The long dick of the law?" The horny counselor kept something going constantly.

Between Andrea's illicit comments and the living breathing proof of everything she said standing a few feet away from her, every time he was in the courtroom, Michonne became a bumbling rookie lawyer again. Thankfully, she hadn't seen him in court for a few days. But now she looked at him through her closed window, mouth dry and heart aflutter.

His soft perfect lips formed unheard words as she looked up at him. It wasn't until he moved his finger in a circular motion, using the old-fashion gesture to get her to roll down the window, that she understood why she couldn't hear him. Michonne gave an embarrassed chuckle as she pushed the button on the door of her sedan and let the chilly air in. She pretended the outside temperature was the reason for her shaky demeanor, but that contradicted her sweaty palms and pits.

The open window allowed his crisp aquatic scent to waft into her space. It was like heaven. She'd never had such an erotic reaction through her olfactory receptors in her life. _God_... she thought to herself as she kept her head trained straight out the windshield and eyed him from her peripheral, _Keep it together, Michonne, or he's going to think you have a body in the trunk._

"Mornin' ma'am. Know why I pulled you over?" He looked at her curiously.

She turned back, daring to look right at him and was instantly overcome by his handsome face. Her sense of sight and sense of smell were sending so many signals to her brain that once his unexpected country drawl was added to the mix, she was woozy. She dropped her head and pulled her neat, unstyled locs behind her ear. She looked him in the face again and opened her mouth to attempt an answer.

Before she could say anything, though, he abandoned the whole traffic cop script and asked, "We know each other?"

Michonne was flattered that her face had made some sort of impression in his mind. "Uh, maybe from the courthouse." she spoke timidly, with a sweet smile.

"Yeah, that's it." he seemed pleased and smiled back. "Ms. Bradshaw, right?" he remembered hearing her name in court and Michonne nodded. "You on your way to the trial of the century? That why you ran that red light back there?"

"Did I?" She pretended to be oblivious and he cocked his head and raised his brow, not buying it.

"You wanna give me your license and registration?"

She deflated at the telltale sign that a ticket was imminent and did as instructed. She grumbled to herself about his by-the-book approach and watched him walk back to his car. She gave herself a moment to drool over the swag in his strut and he caught her checking him out in her side mirror. She quickly averted her gaze and cursed under her breath.

Without his presence distracting her, she remember that she was late and called Andrea to get her to cover for her until she got there.

"Running late." Michonne cut to the chase as soon as Andrea answered, her voice coming through the Bluetooth system in the car.

"Well, hurry up, you know these lawyer types make me nervous."

"Andrea, _you're_ a lawyer..."

"But I'm not a _lawyer-type_." her silly friend countered. "What's the hold up?"

"Got pulled over. Looks like I'm getting a ticket." Michonne said defeated, then she perked up recognizing Andrea would love the irony of her current situation. "And you'll never guess by who..."

The line went quiet for a second, then Andrea answered excitedly, "Deputy Doggystyle?!"

Being reminded of her nasty girlfriend's naughty nickname for him, Michonne looked in her mirror again to make sure he was still in the cruiser. Suddenly aware of how loud her car's sound system was, she quickly turned it down a decibel. She shushed Andrea, still smiling as she confirmed her guess.

"Oh. Well, in that case, take your time." Andrea said with a scandalous tone. They both laughed together. "Oh! While I have you on the phone, we need to go over our schedule for the week." Her scatterbrained friend changed the subject on a dime.

"Sure. Let me get my calendar up."

"Thanks. I'm trying to make some space for a lunch date with a guy I met at a bachelor party."

"What the hell were you doing at a bachelor party, Andrea? You're not a bachelor."

"But I'm the _bachelor type_." She joked. I'm trying to see him Thursday."

Michonne was engrossed in her week's agenda trying to see what she could switch around for her friend. When her coworker got tired of the silence, she asked, "So are you flirting with Deputy Doggystyle? Maybe you can show him some cleavage and get out of this ticket."

"No, I'm not flirting." She sighed at Andrea's predictable conversation. "I'm not equipped for all that." Michonne self-deprecated, but had to admit, "He _is_ looking like a snack today, though."

"What do you mean you're not equipped? Just because you let those perfect tits collect dust, doesn't mean they don't work." Michonne giggled. "No seriously, that might be why he's giving you the ticket in the first place. Men as fine as Deputy Doggystyle expect to get hit on in these situations. You're not doing your civic duty."

"Andrea, shut the hell up." Michonne finally stopped the shenanigans, so she could concentrate on the task at hand.

"Okay, but you've been crushing on this man for months. Now the opportunity presents itself. So hike your skirt up, undo a button on your blouse... something!"

Michonne looked down at her chest and bit her lip. _What could a little cleavage hurt?_ she thought as she plucked open a button and adjusted her rack. She also pulled the hem of her skirt a little higher up her thigh.

Feeling ridiculous for listening to Andrea she decided to rush the troublemaker off the phone. "Ok, well, I think we can bump back our meeting at 2pm on Thursday. Ok? I gotta go, though. You're making me nervous with all this dirty talk. And he's probably gonna be back with my ticket any min..."

She looked in the rear view again and her heart sank when she saw his empty seat in the car behind her. Her jaw dropped and as soon as she realized he wasn't in his car, she heard him clear his throat outside her window. She jumped to hang up the call and she felt a blaze spread out over her dark skin.

He was smiling over her and she wondered how long he'd been standing there and how much he'd heard. She didn't know what to say. She just brought her hands up to the sides of her face shamefully and waited for him to speak first.

"So, I'm gonna let you go with a warnin'." He said as he studied her with his panty-dropping stare.

She exhaled, thankful that she wouldn't be penalized and even more thankful that nothing seemed to be amiss in his demeanor as he talked to her. "Thank you so much!" she said accepting her information back from his hand. "I really appreciate it."

"Just be careful out here and pay attention." He licked over his bottom lip and held it briefly with his teeth, looking down at her cleavage. "I'd hate for you to get hurt." He told her sincerely as she put her driver's license back in her wallet.

"Ok. Yes, sir." She said immediately, in her most agreeable manner.

"I'm only takin' it easy on you because your friend talked you into doin' your civic duty." He teased, snapping Michonne to attention with her jaw dropped. He chuckled at her flustered reaction.

"I'm sorry." she shook her head frantically, explaining, "That's my stupid friend Andrea. She's always saying something inappropriate."

He could have let it go at that but she was absolutely too cute trying to save face. "Yeah, Andrea sounds like a wild one... but _you're_ the one who called me a snack." he grinned, looking down as he scribbled something in a little notebook.

Michonne took a deep breath. She knew when she was caught. "Yes. Yes, I did." She confessed gripping the steering wheel with both hands as if she might whip her car like a white Ford bronco any second now. Her humiliation made her defensive and she shot back indignantly, "How long were you standing there, anyway?"

"I didn't want to interrupt your call. By the way, don't forget to button your blouse back."

She rolled her eyes at him and smiled, unable to deliver a convincing attitude. "... so embarrassing..." she muttered to herself.

He leaned over her window with his elbow on the roof of her car. "Look, let me make it up to you. You're free for lunch Thursday, right?"

She froze, pausing her disapproval of the whole situation as it became clear he was asking her out. "Yeah..." she acknowledged quietly.

"Let's have lunch together." He offered with a tilt of his head. "Not a snack, a whole meal." he teased her again with a wicked smirk, handing her his card. "Wha'dya say?"

She contemplated if she would survive a date with him and pulled her plump lips into her mouth, half embarrassed, half excited. She took the card from him and let her hand fall in her lap. "Okay." she agreed.

"Okay." He gave a wolfish grin. "I wrote my cell on there. Call me later?"

"Okay."

"Okay." He repeated for good measure, showing a bit of nerves, himself, for the first time. He looked back down the road at nothing in particular and ran his thumb across his eyebrow. He was trying to think of something else to say to keep her there a little longer, but decided he'd held her up long enough. He hoped she'd call him sooner rather than later. "Well, you're free to go." He stood up straight and took a step back from her car. "Have a good day, Ms. Bradshaw."

"Michonne." she corrected him.

He smiled more easily then, "I'll see you Thursday, Michonne." He promised and started that sexy amble back to his car.

Michonne looked down at the business card he'd given her. Her face broke into an uncontrollable, yet mortified, smile when she read what he'd written under the embossed print of his name in addition to his cell number,  
 _ **A.K.A. Deputy Doggystyle**_


	2. Chapter 2

The morning had been chilly and gray but now the sun was making a dramatic appearance. The weather warmed in Alexandria and April finally remembered it was a month in spring, bringing the dark suits and white collars of professionals out of their offices to walk the bricked streets of Old Town.

A few inches taller than the average pedestrian on the street, Rick had gotten a glimpse of Michonne before she saw him. Distracted by the way she outshone the sun and stood out despite her petite frame in the crowd, he found himself bumping into two consecutive passersby. Though, he went totally unacknowledged as the people around him were mostly preoccupied by phone calls or text messages.

He tucked his hat under his arm, almost in reverence as his eyes kept settling on her, standing on her tiptoes, searching for him, he assumed. It was hard to do but every few steps he had to drop his eyes back to his black booted feet so he didn't trip on an unleveled stone or step on the fluffy little chihuahua that kept deviating into his path thanks to its extremely long leash and its owner's unconcerned stroll.

He saw her brief glance at her phone, maybe for the time, maybe for a text. She bit at the nail on her thumb and looked back into the restaurant nervously. He was late and already a little pissed about making her wait, but he had to be back up for another officer on a traffic stop and it had taken too long because the driver was being an entitled dick.

Rick waved and smiled at Michonne as he made his way through the lunchtime crowd. When she saw him approaching she breathed a sigh of relief. That relief was short lived when his dazzling smile flipped her stomach and stole any remaining oxygen in her lungs. The blue gray of his uniform convinced her that his eyes were not really blue at all. They were more the color of ice, she concluded, as evidenced by the goosebumps developing all over her otherwise silken skin.

"Hey Michonne. Sorry I'm late." His deep southern drawl preceded his subtle scent as he stepped confidently into her personal space. Too late she realized he was reaching to open the door behind her in a chivalrous display… much too late as she was already wrapping her arms around his curl-caressed neck for a misread hug…

Rick smiled graciously, holding open the door as his date shrank back looking as though she might disintegrate from the sheer embarrassment of such a thirsty move. He did feel good though, strong and solid. She instantly imagined wrapping her legs around him next.

"Sorry, I thought… you…" She stammered anxiously, sticking a few of her locs behind her ear. "I don't know why I… you just leaned in… obviously for the door… a gentleman… and I start pawing at you like a… a…whatever." She shrugged, running out of words. "Look, I'm sorry."

"Michonne. It's fine." He held the door for a couple who were leaving, letting the door close after they cleared it. He moved out of the entranceway, "I would never expect anythang but I sure ain't complainin'." he grinned. "In fact, com'ere."

Curling an arm around her hip, he pulled her into a burly embrace, squeezing her tight against the planes of his chest. Michonne closed her eyes lost to the busy world around them as the sun warmed her upturned face resting on his shoulder. Angels seemed to serenade her in the heavenly spotlight. She thanked the Lord for that red light she ignored a few days ago.

"I'll even do you one better," he said with his lips to her ear. He kissed her cheek, coming dangerously close to planting the kiss full on her mouth. She unconsciously parted her own lips, nearly drunk on the thought of what it'd be like to feel his tongue explore the soft wetness her mouth had to offer. "If that was inappropriate, I'm sorry." Rick said in his lazy dialect, teasing her for her perceived blunder. He tapped the underside of her chin with a hooked index finger and added, "If you don't tell on me, I won't tell on you."

She hoped he couldn't tell how badly she wanted to end her drought straddling his lap as her floodgates made a mess of them both. She looked into the restaurant at the bar, she knew any woman watching would be green with envy, seeing this tall, dark and handsome model of a man looking at her the way he did, though she did spot one obscured face that seemed to approve.

They settled in on barstools and Michonne couldn't tell if his tendency to touch her was more than southern charm. The way he touched her shoulders as he removed her belted jacket, or the way he took her hand as she climbed the tall wooden seat, or the way he smoothed his warm heavy hand down her arm to warm her prickled flesh as they were placing their drink orders- it all had her breathless.

He had suggested that they take advantage of the nice day and eat at one of the umbrellaed tables in a gated space just off the entrance, but she insisted they sit inside. She blamed it on her propensity to be cold-natured. And when the hostess led them to a nice intimate table Michonne said she preferred the bar, which seemed odd to Rick seeing that neither of them could drink since they both had the rest of the work day to get through.

But her worry about succumbing to the slight chill in the air made more sense once Rick saw what she was wearing. It was a bold departure from the dark nondescript power suits and tailored dresses he'd seen her in on so many occasions in the courtroom. Spaghetti strapped and very mini, the neckline of the little color-blocked garment swept low on the dark chocolate kisses of her breasts.

Rick broke the spell of her smooth bounding cleavage and offered her what was meant to be a compliment. "Your dress… it's uh…" he stuttered, losing his ability to conjure words for a moment as the tempting sight stayed burned into his mind. He smiled for lack of a better, more appropriate word, "It's very… different... from what you usually wear."

Michonne's eyes widened with regret on a deep, stifled breath. She looked away from him and her eyes traveled past the row of counter-height chairs to his left, making eye contact with a dark-haired woman who seemed to be eavesdropping. Uncomfortably, Michonne looked down with a disappointed pinch to her face, pulling at the top of her dress, feeling even more exposed. "Yeah." She scoffed and confessed timidly, reluctantly, "It's my friend's dress."

"Let me guess. Andrea?" he surmised correctly as he offered a nod to the bartender and accepted their drinks, ginger ale for him and a peach lemonade for her. He transferred the tall glass of pinkish drink from the barkeep's hand to hers, the unintentional touch of their fingers made both their hearts jump to a sprint as their eyes met too.

Michonne's throat went dry with embarrassment, she quickly pulled away the wrapper covering the tip of her straw and placed the thin plastic on her tongue, securing it between her plump red lips. She nodded to Rick's guess as she pulled the cool fruity liquid into her momentarily wordless mouth. "Yes. It's Andrea's." she confessed with a sigh and huffed as she rolled her eyes in tandem with a disconcerted shake of her head. "She believes breasts are the perfect icebreaker. I thought it was too low cut and too short and well, too much. But she insisted. I've been hiding in my office most of the morning so no one would see me. I mean this," she looked down at her uncovered chest, almost as if she'd just seen it for the first time, "this is… too much."

He had heard enough stories starring Andrea Harris during their late-night conversations for the past couple of days to know that the blonde was wild and crazy… maybe even genius. The dress she was wearing, plus the rogue speakerphone conversation that brought them to this moment had placed him in Mrs. Harris' debt for a lifetime.

Rick interrupted Michonne's agitation. "Michonne, you look beautiful like you always do." he smiled, speaking pointedly and looking right at her. He stole her hand bringing her delicate fingers into his. Caressing their length with the pad of his thumb, he watched her rigid posture sink as he looked past her long batting lashes and into her burning brandy eyes. "In fact, beautiful ain't really the right word. You know how hard it is to stay focused in the courtroom when you're sittin' there bitin' your lip and flippin' through your big yellow notepad looking for somethin' you scribbled a second ago? Or the way you get that smug look on your face when the judge sustains your motion? Or the way you give the faintest pout when you're overruled?" Michonne felt flush as she heard him admit to watching her as much as she'd been watching him. "I'm not sure if there is a word to describe how beautiful you are."

Rick turned her hand over, palm up as it rested between the two of them on his knee. He found her pulse point and started slow circles around her wrist. Michonne watched him drag sparks across her skin, and her other hand left her drink to toy with the 'M' pendant on her necklace. "I didn't think you ever noticed me."

"It's hard not to when you're the baddest thang in a room full of rich lawyers, moody judges, armed guards and hardened criminals. You're a damn good lawyer, Michonne."

"Me?" she was genuinely shocked that that was his opinion. She knew she was a good lawyer. She took pride in her work. A stickler for details that others missed was how she got ruling after ruling in her favor. But ever since Andrea had pointed out Deputy Doggystyle to her, her performances in front of the bench had been less than stellar.

Rick nodded, laughing to himself about some secret humor. He dropped his head as his shoulders jerked causing one of his wind-jostled curls to fall from place. She like this laugh of his, husky and genuinely jovial. It intensified, and his lunch date found herself tickled and ready to join him if only she knew what was so funny. "What?" she asked with a curious shyness. When more dimple-producing laughter was his only response, she took the opportunity to touch him. She slapped at his broad bicep, chastising him for leaving her out of the fun. She demanded, "What?!"

"You remember this guy Charles Negan? You had him on the stand a few months ago on a conspiracy charge." She nodded, but the bartender came back for their food order just as Rick was getting going.

Last night, as they talked on the phone, Rick's cheeks had burned with incredulous laughter as Michonne googled the restaurant's menu and went through every item with a yea or nay until they agreed on Southwest eggrolls and bacon cheddar sliders to share. She talked him into sticking to a light lunch, instead of the 'whole meal' he'd promised her.

When the young man taking their order informed the couple that the bacon cheddar sliders weren't available, Michonne's gave the badge-wearing officer beside her the smug look he'd just described. Like her motion had been sustained. With a drop of his head and a scratch at his jaw, Rick silently acknowledged she was right to make them choose back up dishes in case the newly opened spot didn't have their first picks. Last night he pooh-poohed the need for such an exhaustive study of the menu, but she was right, and he realized he liked to see her face radiate a cocky glow at having been proven so.

Changing the sliders to the mutually agreed upon runner up, garlic honey wings, he placed the order for them both and went back to his drink seeming to forget his abandoned tale.

"So, Negan?" Michonne reminded him, going for another sip of her juice. The case he mentioned was one she'd tackled some time ago and she was impatient to hear what he knew about it.

"Oh yeah, I had to bring Negan in from lock up to the courthouse. He was so sure that he was gonna charm the jury and dance his way around any questions. He bragged the whole way there. Tellin' us we'd miss him when he's gone because his lawyer was a fuckin' ball-breaker like he'd never seen." Rick stopped abruptly, reddening as he realized his word choice was more colorful than he intended. "'Scuse my language."

Hearing him apologize sheepishly for slipping with a little crude talk made Michonne giggle at his honest to goodness southern sensibilities in the presence of a lady. Though bad language was something his mother never tolerated, he confessed to having a serious potty mouth the first time they talked on the phone. When he let his guard down, it usually got worse. Her eyes stayed on his pink lips and her mind quickly descended to the gutter. She imagined all the dirty things he might say to her behind closed doors.

"It's a good thing I didn't have any balls to break then, huh?" She ignored his contrition for the f-bomb and added a little vulgarity of her own, "His lawyer was ass slime. Simon Lynch. I hate that smug bastard."

It was now Rick's turn to laugh. 'Ass slime' was an insult new to his ears and now it was his favorite. Michonne's sweet voice saying something so disgusting was good for his soul. He raised his brow, impressed. "Ass slime? Wow. Can I use that sometimes?"

"Feel free." She said, happily. "I also have dick drip and shit crumb… it's a complete collection."

Rick erupted into a hearty laugh again and Michonne tossed her hair back with a proud glance toward the intrusive tinted eyes at the end of the bar.

Making the eyes of this big handsome public servant crinkle with laughter was the highlight of her day. Her style of profanity was something Andrea always gave her grief for. Her co-chair always told her compound curse words made her sound like a middle school bully. The fact that Rick enjoyed it made her hopeful since there was definitely more where that came from.

"So, you cross-examine Negan and with your very first question you wiped that snide grin right off his face. By your third question, I could see him sweating. A few more questions in and he's going down in flames. His lawyer is flipping through every paper on his table trying to find some kind of legal kryptonite to stop this superwoman lawyer that's just eviscerating his client right in front of him." Rick excitedly recounted the whole scene from his vantage point, arms flying with gestures, like he had seen an actual superhero take down the ultimate villain. "I even saw Judge Blake crack a smile at the way you just shredded every point made by Negan's defense team. It was hilarious. On the way back to his cell, where he still sits today," Rick made a point to say, "Negan actually cried."

Michonne remembered that day well. They still talked about it at her firm. She came prepared for every angle that day, even Andrea was on point. Hearing Rick celebrate one of her best boss moves made her feel powerful and sexy. Her initial nervousness crumbled, and they enjoyed each other's company over appetizers and a shared square of chocolate fudge brownie topped with vanilla ice cream and a caramel drizzle.

Michonne disclosed to Rick how nervous she had been to see him again and all the things her friend Andrea said she should do to get through their date today. From licking a cherry garnish suggestively to pretending the eatery was too noisy so everything would have to be whispered. Rick raised a finger to ask the bartender for a bowl of cherries for a live demonstration and both Michonne's hands shot into action to restrain his spurious attempt. She held onto his beefy forearm and shushed him covering his lips through a giggled gasp with the pretty pink manicure she'd given herself last night. She rebuked him for siding with Andrea's wicked propositions as she exchanged glances with the brunette at the end of the bar.

He leaned into her diamond studded ear, his warm breath close enough to her neck to give her heart palpitations and send a quiver through her liver. He whispered, "You know, I just noticed, it _is_ kinda loud in here. Maybe we should leave… get lost together. We should play hooky the rest of the day. My partner'll cover for me. Wha'dya say? Can I steal you for the day?"

Michonne twisted in her seat, a cyclone of fire spinning in her womb. "I would love to spend more time with you, but Andrea would have to cover for me." she said regretfully. A loud cough came from the end of the bar. "Unfortunately," Michonne smiled, "she doesn't really 'lawyer' without my supervision."

Rick sat back and chuckled with an elbow on the counter of the bar. "Like you don't do lunch dates without hers?" He raised his brow with a knowing smirk.

Michonne looked again to the end of the bar, this time openly at the mysterious woman wearing dark shades who had been monitoring her progress for the better part of an hour. Amused, Rick waved to Andrea and watched her shrink in a rare moment of abashment.

"You recognized her?" Michonne asked him, with wide, surprised eyes as Rick stood up.

He gave a sweeping vertical gesture, presenting his city-issued uniform as though the answer was obvious, "I'm a cop, Michonne. And this nosy stranger over here could not be more suspicious." he said walking with that sexy bow-legged stride over to her poorly disguised friend. "I could've let the sunglasses pass." He spoke to Andrea now, pulling the eye-wear carefully off her face. "You could'a been hungover or coverin' a shiner from an abusive husband." Rick explained. "But this wig?" he shook his head at the amateur effort, pulling the cheap synthetic hair off the back of her head and holding it in front of her face, "A woman wearing $500 sunglasses wouldn't be caught dead in this novelty store wig. I noticed you almost immediately."

"See, I told you the wig was too much!" Michonne fussed as Andrea snatched her borrowed hair out of Rick's hand. Though Ms. Bradshaw's skills for debate were unmatched, she could not deter her rowdy friend from showing up to keep an eye on her. Michonne guaranteed her co-council that she had done enough to help already, but the most she could get Andrea to agree to was remaining unheard and unseen. Which the unmasked, martini-drinking woman completely failed to do.

"Nice to meet you, Andrea. I'm Deputy Doggystyle."

The blond faked a sarcastic laugh at the mention of the scandalous name she'd given him, all of her initial fluster turned to nerves of steel. She accepted his large hand for an unenthusiastic shake. "Are you though?" With a pound of attitude, but not an ounce of shame, she questioned the moniker's validity as her fiery green eyes stubbornly matched his blue ones. "My best friend needs proof."

"Andrea!" Michonne called her crazy friend to heel, mortified once again thanks to her unruly mouth.

Rick grinned at his date's high-pitched squeal of horror and watched her bury her face in her palm. Tipping his head toward the hall leading to the bathrooms, inviting Andrea a few steps away from the bar to a quick little powwow out of their common interest's earshot. Michonne watched as they faced each other, and Rick whispered something to her uncensored friend.

Andrea looked Michonne's way with a devilish grin. The dolled-up litigator tensed and moved a little closer to hear, or if possible, lipread whatever deal was being struck.

"Go on, my dear." Andrea came back to the bar with a much more agreeable face. She pulled Michonne into a nearly tearful, farewell embrace. "I'll cover for you."

"What? You will?"

"Yes."

"You?"

"Yes. I'll be fine. Run along with my good buddy Rick and have fun."

Michonne looked at Andrea like she'd grown another head. "Why? What did he say to you? What did you say to her?" She turned and asked Rick directly, moving in dumb-founded slow-motion as he was already sliding her jacket up her arms to leave. He simply shrugged in response with a non-complicit expression.

"I'm takin' you into custody," he joked as he grabbed up his hat and winked. "Your lawyer says it's fine. You already know your rights." He took her by the hand, making his way to the door. "Anythang you say can be held against you."

Michonne stopped walking to demand an answer, "Rick!"

"Alright." He played on the well-known phrase, nodding with a sense of duty as he pulled her flush against his well-built body. He looked back and tipped his black-billed hat at his new friend as she gave him a proud salute.

Andrea turned back to the bar and waved for the bartender. The nice-looking tanned young man approached her with a smile, ready to be at her service. "Hi, I'm Andrea." she flirted. "You into wigs?"

* * *

A/N: Lots of you guys asked me to continue this story. I wanted to, but I couldn't think of what to do with it next. But my good, good girlfriend, Tigerwalk made me promise her more Deputy Doggystyle and if I make a promise I try to keep it. I'm brainstorming one final chapter, but currently I have no ETA for it. I hope you guys like this one. Hopefully your reviews will help me close this one out with a "bang"!

(^^^See what I did there? ;P)

-Nattah


	3. Chapter 3

Rick flipped the switch on the dash again and the siren of his cruiser gave a quick WOOP into the city street. With all the hustle and bustle, there was barely anyone who noticed. Except Michonne, who jumped for the second time at the sudden noise.

Rick bit down hard on the toothpick in his mouth and tried not to laugh. Michonne covered her face, giggling with embarrassment.

Her heart raced, but not because of the jumpscare.

Her heart raced because of the devilish grin of the handsome practical joker sitting beside her in the driver's seat. His muscled thigh flexed as he gave the vehicle gas and her skin ignited. She couldn't help but notice the spectacle of the oblong shape resting against it.

Her heart was racing because he seemed to be completely tickled about seeing her caught off guard. It was as if he got off on her coming undone. He did.

He watched her turn to Jell-o the first time they met when she realized he'd overheard her very private conversation. Last night he fantasized about stripping her down and watching her relinquish any shamefulness. He wanted to give her unrelenting successive licks and watch her twitch with pleasure until she could no longer care to be self-conscious.

And now he had her all to himself. Adrenaline ran through his blood whenever he stole a glance her way. He liked how it felt and he didn't think once about denying himself that feeling. He took a few moments at the next red light to openly stare at her profile.

Michonne felt his eyes on her, burning her skin and making her shiver.

"You know if you're scared, you can hold my hand," Rick teased her skittishness, offering his wide upturned palm.

Michonne rolled her eyes at his taunt, but put her hand in his all the same. His thumb stroked hers and she felt that stroke in another place.

A place she had been successfully ignoring. Until a few weeks ago when she saw the officer to her left standing tall with authority in the courtroom. Now that forgotten spot was screaming for some attention. Screaming.

Seeing her slender dark fingers intertwined between his bulky knuckles made her head swim. "Your hands are huge," she said before she could decide if the remark was appropriate. As soon as she said it, she decided it was not appropriate and wished she could sink into the leather seat of his cruiser and hide.

Rick just chuckled. "Yeah." He looked down, noticing the difference in size between them. "They match my feet." He fiddled with his toothpick. "And you know what they say about guys with big hands and feet?"

Michonne looked at him with wide eyes. "What," she asked in a whisper, nearly breathless.

She knew what they said about guys with big hands and feet. But she would literally turn into a puddle if he confirmed it. In her mind, she battled whether she should pretend to be offended if he did.

Another part of her thought there was no reason to play coy. The fact that he knew he was better known as Deputy Doggystyle in her private conversations should supercede any supposed decorum. She toyed with the idea of giving him a naughty response.

Maybe take a page from Andrea's book and ask him to 'prove it'...

Until Rick answered her, "They say guys with big hands and feet pay more for mani-pedis."

"Mani… what?" Michonne blurted, followed by a snort. She covered her face and folded over, forehead to knees, laughing. She sat up, throwing her locs back. "You play entirely too much, Rick Grimes."

"What? What did you think I was gonna say?" He laughed along trying to keep a straight face as though he was clueless.

"Nevermind. Where are you taking me? And what did you say to Andrea to get her to cover at work."

Rick spoofed a regretful, cringey face. "Sorry, I can't tell you. Attorney/client privilege, you know."

Michonne laughed again. It didn't escape her notice that she was giving him authentic laughter. It felt good. Freeing.

She had gotten so used to the fabricated amusement that she'd give to her stuffy colleagues. Hushed giggles in Andrea's office apparently were not enough. Never being able to hoot and holler was stifling her spirit more than she would've guessed.

"Well, if you're attorney is Andrea, you're screwed. You may as well head to the penitentiary now."

"Is she really that bad?"

"She is. She wanted to be a rockstar and even as an adult with no musical ability, she still thinks it could happen for her, if that's any indication of her judgement. But she comes from a family of lawyers and her uncle is a partner at our firm, so it's like impossible for her to get fired."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. She may burn the place down while I'm gone."

Rick laughed but Michonne didn't. He seemed a little less sure about trusting Andrea to cover for Michonne. His expression changed. "I don't want you to go back to a shitshow at work on my account. I'll take you back if you want," he said sincerely.

"Hell no," she blasted with abrupt finality. Her upper lip curled, her eyes rolled and she gave him a look that wordlessly questioned his sanity.

Rick smiled at her moxie. "Motion to proceed with lunch date kidnapping?"

"Sustained."

...

The long ride to Rick's secret destination included Michonne's crash course lecture for the deputy in loc maintenance, a tag team symposium on all their favorite apple recipes and a heated debate about whether her collection of porcelain kitties made her a 'crazy cat lady'. After she made her spirited rebuttal, Rick shyly admitted that it turned him on when she "talked lawyer", as he put it.

Finally, they arrived outside a row of park pavilions. A flock of people milled about the many pop-up shops and table displays of local vendors. Everything was for sale there. From fresh fruit to artificial flowers to refurbished furniture to fifties fashion.

"This was one of my favorite places as a kid."

"A flea market," Michonne asked, surprised.

"Yeah. A flea market," Rick said proudly. He joked, " You got a problem with that?"

"No, I don't have a problem, Rick."

He continued to needle her with a good-natured grin, "I mean, if it's too low-budget for a gorgeous, powerful, top dollar attorney…"

"Cut it out!" Her cheekbones peaked as she flustered from the praise falling from those tempting lips. She reached for the door handle, ready for a little air to clear her head.

"Michonne," Rick stopped her. He took his toothpick out of his mouth and put on a serious face. "Let's get somethin' straight here and now."

"Sure." Anticipating something harsh and unpleasant, her smile fell away.

"My momma, God rest her, she's in heaven lookin' down on me right now. Everytime you reach for a door, I can feel her twistin' my ear," Rick said, tugging lightly at Michonne's ear and smoothing his knuckles down her neck.

She squirmed in her seat and laughed through an apology.

"So can we just set the ground rules that I'm the kinda guy that opens doors and pulls out chairs? I'm the kinda guy that pays and holds hands. I know you can make big time criminals cry, but my momma ain't gonna be happy if I don't do ya like I was raised."

Michonne smiled again. She took her hand off the door, placed them both in her lap and patiently watched him round the car to her side. He took her hand and pulled her from her seat.

Michonne rose to her tiptoes to look over the cars at all the colors around her. Printed dresses flapped on hangers in the breeze. Quilts were hung from clotheslines tied to posts. Painted pottery was everywhere. The smell of oils and incense were heavy in the air.

Rick reminisced as they walked along. "I used to spend my days here when I was younger. I always came home with something new… well, new to me anyway."

"Most of this stuff is secondhand," he waved over the market in general with one hand, while he held Michonne's in the other. "But you can find a lot of unique things. Once my mother found a Billie Holiday record. _'Jazz at the Philharmonic'_. It was worth a lot of money."

"I love Billie Holiday," Michonne said impassioned. "So what are we looking for today."

"Today, I got an idea," Rick announced as Michonne examined a few scarves for sale. "We're gonna buy each other souvenirs of our first date." Michonne's excitement bled through her curious smile.

"Souvenirs?"

"Yeah. We split up. You go buy somethin' you think I'd like and I'll do the same. Five dollar limit. We meet back here and, one day, it'll be a really cool story to tell our kids."

Michonne raised a brow. Looking him over, she couldn't help but think about his naked chiseled body covering her. She imagined him sweaty and focused working on baby-making. She licked her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Our kids, huh?"

"Yeah, our kids. Okay," he looked at his wristwatch, "In 20 minutes we meet back here and have a little flea market Christmas. Ready? Go!"

Rick moved away from her into the stream of browsing people. He seemed to have something in mind and knew precisely where to get it. Michonne felt a rush of panic. She was always prepared. That's how she conquered the courtroom.

If she had known that they would come here she would've made a list of things to get, mapped out a route through the market and approximated a budget down to the last penny of her five dollars. But Rick had a way of whirling her around until she was dizzy. She was surprised at how much she loved it.

Without all her ducks in a row, she would have to give spontaneity a try. That freaked her out. But she didn't have time to freak out. Michonne knew she would never make it to every seller in 20 minutes.

She hollered at his tall retreating form, "20 minutes?!"

He hollered back, "Yeah. Any more than that and I'll start to miss ya."

Michonne could feel her cheekbones making another appearance. She pressed her palms to her face to try and get them under control. Her eyes ping-ponged from station to station. She let out a quiet hysterical scream. Now, she wished she could spot Andrea in some terrible disguise and get some advice.

"Okay," she gave herself a quick pep talk, "20 minutes. Five dollars. Don't panic. It's just the guy you've been daydreaming about sleeping with for weeks… who turned out to be kind and charming and fun. He's just testing how well I know him… whether I've been listening to anything he's said or if I've just been envisioning recreating the sex scene from _Desperado_ with him."

She might be in trouble. No matter how important the case, if Rick was in the courtroom she could never stop herself from drifting into a private fantasy of making love to him surrounded by a hundred candles with a pout like Salma Hayek's. It had only gotten worse since she ran that red light.

She rolled her eyes at the butterflies in her stomach. She was energized and terrified at the same time. She dragged her hands over her locks, pulling them with excitement. Then she took off to find Deputy Doggystyle something that he would love.

...

Rick and his stolen date sat next to each other in the open field near the local bazaar. A few yards to their right, a class of senior citizens learned tai chi. Across the long path to the market, a public playground was full of screaming little ones and their parents or nannies.

"I can't decide whether I'm more excited to give you what I found or if I wanna see what you got me first," Rick said with an unshakable smile.

"You wanna go first. I can tell." A nervous Michonne tried to stall. "Knowing what a generous guy you are, I would expect no less."

She quickly yanked away the linen tote he was holding in his fist before he could object. Rick smirked at her ability to redirect. It was something he watched her do in court on many occasions.

He was happy to go with the flow. Leaning into her, rapt by her reaction, he nervously pulled at his collar as he watched her take out the first object she touched. It dawned on him how much he was hoping to make a good impression and he was even more intrigued with her.

A porcelain Siamese kitten standing on all fours sat in her palm. She gushed over the exaggerated wide blue eyes and stubby dark brown legs.

"For your collection," Rick said, pleased with himself. "If you're gonna be a crazy cat lady, I'll be your enabler." He sighed as though being her enabler put the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Oh my god," Michonne rolled her eyes. "A few collectibles does not a crazy cat lady make! And why us that even a thing?"

She geared up to make another strong defense. It was the speech she had given Andrea a number of times when her best friend also accused her of being on a path to becoming a 'barking mad kitty biddy'.

"Why all this feline hate? Why not 'crazy dog lady' or 'crazy bird lady'?"

"Or crazy fish lady," Rick joked.

"Believe it or not, I know a girl who kept buying goldfish, one right after another! She even named them after her boyfriend. She actually called them juniors! But nobody ever called her a 'crazy fish lady'. This is discrimination pure and simple! I submit to you that there are few social issues more ignored than the harassment of unmarried female cat lovers!"

Michonne tossed her hair with a humph. Rick only smirked and after a dramatic pause, he said, "You know, that is exactly what a crazy cat lady would say."

Michonne gave him a look and a fake laugh. "Why do you like to give me a hard time?"

He answered her instantly with a deep suggestive drawl, "Cuz you love it."

Those cocky words made her face burn and her stomach flip. She had no prepared statement for that truth, so she retreated into the bag, needing something to distract her from his stormy cobalt eyes.

The first night they spoke on the phone, Rick asked her the origin of her name. Like most people he'd never met a _'Michonne'_. But when he complimented the beautiful uniqueness of her name, she pointed out the cons.

Like the awkward moments having to correct your boss' pronunciation or never being gifted personalized items.

Of course, she admitted that she could just personalize anything she wanted, herself. But, silly as it was, she just wanted someone else to give her something with her name on it. It amazed her that he remembered that little tidbit from their long, scattered conversations.

She held the gaudy beaded keychain in her hand. The unsophisticated look of insequential tri-beads and braided plastic gimp took her back to her childhood.

A little girl named Amanda was selling handmade keychains to fund a homeschool trip. The flat round beads were quickly slid into place by the girl's little fingers as Rick spelled out M-I-C-H-O-N-N-E.

Rick passed on a message from the little artisan, "She told me to tell you that your name is cool. She runs a hard bargain too. I tried to get her to come down on the price, but she suckerd me and charged me double. Five bucks didn't last long."

Michonne laughed and instantly fell in love with her presents. After Rick's thoughtful gifts, she also felt like maybe she could have done a better job with her purchases. She offered a disclaimer, "I just want to say that I'm not the best at picking out gifts, so…"

She trailed off, unable to look him in the eye. She sat her bag of finds on the seat between them and looked over at some inane scene in the market. It was hard for Rick to miss the red apples weighing down the netted bag when he picked it up.

"Okay, apples!" Rick took a bite of one and nodded knowingly, "These are from Rosemary's Orchard."

Michonne's eyes widened as she recalled that _Rosemary_ was indeed the name painted in pink onto the wooden sign. "How did you know?"

"I told you, I came here all the time when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time with Rosemary and her husband. Did he sell you these?"

"I don't know. It was a big older man who looked kinda like Santa in denim overalls. Nice guy. A talker. But I didn't have time to chat."

"Yep. That's him. Dan."

"Dan! That's right," Michonne remembered. She snatched the apple away from Rick before he took another bite. "Don't eat all the apples. I bought these so you could make me that apple compote you swear'll be better than my momma's fried apples."

"Oh, so, your first gift to me... is actually for you," he asked sarcastically.

"No." Michonne thought of a clever retort quickly, "These apples are for you. They give you an opportunity to show off." She bit into the apple herself with a smug sort of cuteness. She chewed demurely, her fingertips covering her lips. "Which, I'm beginning to see, is something you love to do."

Rick's brow shot up in surprise at her cutting quip. He deflated and disappointment fell across his face. It seemed like everything was going great, but apparently not.

"Well, nobody likes a showoff."

"Don't take that the wrong way." She handed back the apple, almost like a peace offering. "I work with a lot of showoffs. That's definitely not you. You're not arrogant or belittling. I think you show off without even trying."

"I just enjoy doin' the stuff I'm good at." He shrugged and bit the apple again, making sure to chomp down in the same place Michonne just did. He was positive that the apple seemed so much sweeter on that second bite.

"They say nothing's more attractive than confidence."

"Oh, I don't know," Rick countered with a hinting tone, "I'm findin' that sweet and shy is sexier than I thought."

She caught his meaning and smiled. As stunning as her smile was, Rick tried not to let it swallow his heart whole. He was falling for this woman. He had no doubt.

He lifted a book out of the bag and read the title, " _Coyote Sunset_?"

Michonne explained, "We both like to read and this lady was selling used books. I thought we could read it together."

"Did you get this from a redhead with freckles?"

"Her name was Marie. She told me this was one of her favorites." Michonne pointed, "And the guy on the cover kinda reminds me of you."

Rick looked at the artwork and tilted his head, flattered and very amused. The male model was in an unconvincing police uniform, extremely buff. His biceps bulged from his short sleeves. His face was hidden by the brim of his policeman's cap as he carried an unconscious woman in his arms.

Rick cleared his throat. "Do you know what kind of books Marie sells?"

"What? You too macho for romance," she teased him now. "Marie said this one had a thriller subplot. So I think you'll be okay."

Rick nodded, keeping his comments to himself and nonchalantly dropped his bitten apple back in the bag. He opened to a random page of the book and started reading. "Demi handcuffed Steven to the fridge. 'I have lost three of my best girls,' Demi said. 'If you have a suspect. I need to know who he is.' Demi licked her palm, reached into his pants and started jerkin' his warm pink python."

Michonne gasped in horror and tried to wrest the book from her date's hand. "Oh my God! Shhh! Rick, stop!"

He switched to the hand furthest from her, stiff-arming her to keep her at bay. He continued, "Steven cried out so many curse words, Demi lost track. 'I'll do whatever I have to do to get a name from you, detective.' Demi reached into the fridge and pulled out a can of whip cream. She pulled off her satin underwear..."

"Rick, please!"

"Demi sprayed the dessert toppin' into her underwear."

Michonne covered her face. She spoke in a whispered deadpan, "Oh my God. I'm begging you to stop."

"Demi made him wear the underwear on his face. 'Lick 'em clean,' she said, 'and then you can have some pussy for dessert."

"I'm literally going to die of embarrassment."

Rick let out a belly laugh. "This is what you want us to read together?"

"I didn't know it was smut."

"Badly written smut."

"I thought it was just a cheap crime novel."

Rick closed the book and referred back to the cover, "Yeah this guy with the skin tight pants and unbuttoned shirt looks like a real no nonsense detective."

"Well, I don't read," Michonne whispered, ashamed, " _dirty_ books. I wouldn't recognize one from the cover. Just give me the book." She held out a lazy hand.

"You've got to be kiddin'. We're definitely readin' this! Demi has a very unorthodox interrogation technique. In our line of work, this could come in handy." Rick skipped a few pages and continued to torture her. "Steven kept thrustin' harder and faster. Angel's boobs…Wait, it's Angel now? What happened to Demi," Rick asked with a chuckle, pretending to be impressed that Steven was on another woman in less than three pages.

MIchonne was mortified. "It says 'boobs'?"

"Yeah." Rick tried to keep from sputtering while he pointed out the words to Michonne and read, "Angel's boobs jumped with every thrust from the long swollen nightstick between his legs..."

Badly written or not, the description of a 'long swollen nightstick' being wielded by Rick was now taking over her brain. She was starting to sweat. Partly from embarrassment but also from desire as Rick's deep velvety voice kept reading. Michonne was desperate to quiet him and delirious enough to act completely out of character.

Determined to end her humiliation, she grabbed his face with both hands and pushed her full lips against his. Her body laid against him. Her petite frame was practically in his lap.

Utterly surprised, Rick pulled away from her mouth then kissed her back with more leverage. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Michonne relaxed into him. Her hands fell to his muscled shoulders and she slipped him a little tongue.

"Hi, Deputy Rick!" A sweet little voice came from outside their liplock.

Michonne regained her senses immediately and slid herself down Rick's solid body, back to the park bench. They both gave the little girl in front of them an obligatory smile.

"Is this your girlfriend," the little one lisped loudly through missing bottom teeth. Her straight black hair laid over her forehead. Her dark eyes all but disappeared when she smiled.

"Yes. It is."

Michonne's brown eyes met Rick's and she gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. They hadn't discussed their relationship status. But instead of being taken aback, his quick answer sounded like the testimony of an expert witness to her. Irrefutable.

The little girl's eyes went wide. "Is this Michonne?"

"Hi, sweetie," Michonne nodded to her question and shook the child's hand. "What's your name?"

"Amanda."

"Oh! Amanda! You made this lovely key chain, didn't you?"

The little girl nodded vigorously. "You're pretty."

"So are you."

"Thank you." The little girl covered her imperfect happy smile. "Deputy Rick, your dad said to give you these for your pretty date." Amanda pulled a bouquet of pinkish white apple blossoms from behind her back.

Michonne smiled, cooing at the sweet-smelling white flowers as they made their way from Amanda's hands to Rick's to her's. The little girl ran off, giggling, without another word.

"Looks like you made an impression on old Apple Dan."

Michonne gasped, "That's your father?" She replayed their rushed conversation in her head. She had been distracted looking for Rick's gift. She prayed she didn't come off as rude.

"Yeah. I used to come here with my momma when I was small. We used to sell apples here. When she passed away, daddy named the orchard after her and carried on. Now he sells 'em here once a week. I grew up with all the sellers at this market. That's why it's one of my favorite places."

Michonne looked around the flea market with different eyes. She could imagine a baby-faced Rick, running through the space and playing tricks on unsuspecting shoppers. With that sunny characterization in her head, she felt a lot less sex-crazed even with the feel of his tongue still tingling across her lips.

"He wasn't so keen on me duckin' out of the apple business to be a cop. But like I said, I enjoy doin' what I'm good at and it sure wasn't growin' apples."

Michonne held the blossoms to her nose and inhaled their dreamy scent. "I'm sure he's proud of you. Your mother too."

"Well, we know he likes you a lot. So, that's one good decision I made." Rick nodded toward Dan who was waving at them from his apple stand.

Michonne waved back. "Come on. Take me back over there so I can meet him properly."

"Ok," Rick gave her a wicked grin. "Maybe he'll want to join our book club."


End file.
